


Wrong Side of the Road

by ESawyer



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Coming Out, Connor McKinley is oblivious, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, The most oblivious person to ever live, bom secret Santa 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ESawyer/pseuds/ESawyer
Summary: Connor McKinley's life might have been falling apart all thanks to a stupid play, but at least he would get to spend two days driving to Kampala with his best friend, right?Wrong.Instead, he gets stuck in a car withKevin Priceof all people. And it would be absolutley, totally fine. Probably.
Relationships: Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price
Comments: 4
Kudos: 103





	Wrong Side of the Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatLittleWhiteLie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatLittleWhiteLie/gifts).



Connor McKinley stood in front of the mirror in his office carefully smoothing his hair into place. It had been the strangest few weeks of his life, and as much as he didn’t want to face the consequences, he didn’t really have a choice. 

Sighing, Connor buttoned his top button and tied his tie. Trying to force himself back into the perfect district leader that he had been upon arrival in Uganda seemed like a pointless task, but most things did these days. 

Ever wary of the sun and the vendetta it seemed to have against his ghostly skin, Connor grabbed his trusted bottle of sun lotion and rubbed it into his face, trying to think of anything but the sort of things that he probably should have been thinking about. He didn't want to think about how angry the Mission President probably was, or how angry his missionaries would be when they found out that he wouldn’t be able to secure the funding they needed to carry on with their mission. He _certainly_ didn't want to think about how angry his parents would be, or how the rest of his family probably wouldn’t want to speak to him ever again. 

The introduction of the Book of Arnold had changed the village in a way that Connor could not begin to comprehend; laughter boomed out of every hut and the fear that _today might be the day the General comes for us_ had evaporated into nothingness. The last thing that Connor wanted to do was lose this, but he wasn’t sure that he was going to have a choice. 

The sound of gunshots echoed through his mind for a moment and he squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. He _couldn’t_ let that happen again. 

“Elder McKinley?” came Poptarts voice through the door, “I’m ready if - I’m ready if you are,” 

“I’ll be out in just a moment, Elder!” Connor called back, straightening his tie and smoothing his shirt. He might have been a man on the verge of a breakdown, but at least he didn’t look like one. 

“I’m having a panic attack,” was the first thing out of Poptarts mouth the moment Connor opened the door. 

“Alright, Chris, look at me,” Connor said, gently placing his hands on his mission companions shoulder, “Breathe with me. In 1, 2, 3,...out...1,2,3...in...”

It took five minutes to calm Poptarts down, by which point Connor was beginning to think that he could do with someone helping him remember how to breathe. Not that it mattered. This wasn’t about him. 

“I’m sorry, Con, I don’t think that I’m going to be able to come to Kampala with you,” Poptarts said, still breathing heavily. 

Connor’s heart sank, he had been looking forward to two days when it was just him and his best friend. He was planning on acting like they didn't have a care in the world, like they were two _normal_ teenagers.

“Why?"

“I can’t face the mission president, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll be much help. I’d rather just stay here,” Poptarts said, his head bent low, “I’m sure someone else would be able to come with you,”

“We’re meant to be leaving in _fifteen minutes_ , Chris, I don’t have the time to-”

“I’ll come with you,” 

Conor looked over Poptarts head and his heart did a flip in his chest. Elder Price was stood at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. 

“I don’t have anything better to do,” Price shrugged, “Arnold is busy with the Book and, uh, _other_ things and since no one here really likes me, I might as well get away for awhile,” 

Connor stared at Price, torn between wanting to throw something at him and wanting to hug him. His fall from grace had left him a lot less egotistical and a lot more self-depreciating. Connor wasn’t sure which one he preferred. 

“That isn’t true, Elder Price. You’re liked plenty here,” 

Connor decided to ignore Poptarts scoffing, Elder Price didn’t. 

“I told you, Elder McKinley, no one here likes me. I’ll go and pack a bag,” 

“That was rude, Chris,” Connor said. 

“I don’t care,” Poptarts said, “ _He’s_ rude,”

“Not anymore,” 

Poptarts rolled his eyes, “Your unrelenting belief that everyone is a good person is adorable but also tiring. Some people are morons, and that’s OK,” 

“Elder Price isn’t a moron,”

“Maybe this is the best way for you to get over your crush on him,” Poptarts said lightly, “We’ll see how you feel about him after you’ve been stuck in a car with him for two days,” 

“At least we won’t be on that gosh-awful bus,”

Mutumbo had been kind enough to lend Connor his (very) beat up car after he had asked for the best way to get to Kampala. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea but now that Connor really thought about the implications of driving in a car on the wrong side of the road, in a foreign country, guided only by a map and in the company of someone he barely knew, he was sure he was going to be driving to his death. 

Pushing all thoughts of death out of his mind, Connor dedicated his time to packing the car. He grunted with the effort of putting canisters of gas into the trunk and wondered if maybe he should start working out. 

“Do you need any help, Elder McKinley?” 

“No, thank-you, Elder Price. I’m sure I’ll-” Connor broke off in an embarrassing sort of squeak when he turned around to face Price. He couldn’t be blamed for it though; Price was wearing thin, slightly round framed glasses, and Connor was quite sure that he’d never seen anyone so attractive in his life. 

“You’re wearing glasses,” Connor said intelligently. 

Price stared at him and pushed them up his nose, “Uh...yeah. I’ve ran out of contact lenses,” 

“Well, they um - they suit you,” Connor said, his voice slightly strained, “I like them,”

“Oh,” Price muttered, “Um - thank-you. I wasn’t...I wasn’t sure that - I wasn’t sure that people would. I was worried they make my eyes look strange,” 

Connor stared at him for a few moments. Elder Price being so unsure of himself was unsettling. It was not the first time that he had worried about Elder Price’s wellbeing - he would not soon forget the way he looked on the day of Nabulungi’s play - but his worry had just increased tenfold. 

“Well, are you...are you ready to go?” Connor asked. 

Price gave a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders, his hair flopping pathetically over his forehead, “Whatever you say, Elder McKinley,” 

_This is going to be a disaster._ Connor thought to himself as he got into the car. 

“I’m afraid there's no AC,” Connor said, “but you can open the windows if you’re feeling brave. Get a bit of a breeze in,” 

Price just shrugged his shoulders again. 

_Yep._ Connor thought to himself as he pulled out of the village. _A complete disaster._

* * *

Elder Price was not the amazing company that he usually was in many of Connor’s Hell Dreams. He did not do much apart from stare dejectedly out of the window and occasionally sigh. Connor chewed the inside of his lip, wondering if he should say something. It was not unusual for his missionaries to come to him with any worries they had, but Elder Price had never been one to knock on his office door for a midnight therapy session. This had always disappointed him, but for all the wrong reasons. 

“So,” Connor said, deciding to break the silence. If they were going to be stuck in a car together for two days, they were at least going to talk to each other, “How is Elder Cunningham finding writing?”

“Fine.” Price said, “He’s enjoying it,” 

“Are you helping at all?”

“Not really. Creativity isn’t really my strong suit,” Connor had never heard someone sound so sad in his life, “I sorta just...leave him to it.” 

“I would have asked him to come today, but I didn’t want to pull him away from his work. I also don’t know how helpful he’d be in a meeting with the mission president of all people,”

“Do you have a plan for the meeting?”

Connor’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, “Sort of. I had the villagers write a personal statement of sorts...you know, telling the Mission President how their lives have been changed by the Book of Arnold. If that doesn’t work, then I suppose we’ll just have to promise to carry on preaching the Book of Mormon and then just...not,” 

“You mean lie?”

“I’ll just have to change some things in my monthly reports. He probably wouldn’t even read them,” 

“I don’t think I can lie,” 

“That’s quite alright, Elder, I’ll be the one lying,” Connor said confidently, though his heart was beating uncomfortably fast, “I’ve always been destined for Hell,” he tried to pass it off as a joke, but it didn’t quite come out that way. 

“I don’t think you’re destined for Hell, Elder McKinley,” Price said quietly, “You’re too nice,”

Connor felt his cheeks heat up. 

“Thank-you, Elder, that’s a very nice thing for you to say,” 

* * *

When the sun began to set, Elder Price clambered into the back of the car to get some sleep. His hip accidentally brushing against Connor’s shoulder as he climbed passed did _not_ send his heart beating wild, and he was _not_ going to spend his night thinking about it. 

“Are you not going to sleep?” Price asked. 

“Mafala helped me book a couple of hotels. We’re about an hour from the first one. I’ll sleep then,”

“I can stay awake if-”

“You look exhausted. Go to sleep,” Connor said, as kindly as he could without being patronising, “There’s a blanket if you want it,”

“It smells like you,” 

“Sorry. I took it from my bed,” 

“No, I don’t mind. It’s fine. You smell nice,” 

Connor clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. If Heavenly Father did indeed exist, he had sent a rather difficult test in the shape of an outrageously attractive missionary. Connor allowed his eyes to flicker up to the wing mirror and look at Elder Price - simply to check on him and _not_ to check him out. He had curled up on the back seat, hugging Connor’s blanket to his chest, his glasses askew. 

Even in sleep, he did not look relaxed; his shoulders were drawn up to his chin with his mouth pressed into a thin line and his brows furrowed. Connor frowned and turned his eyes back to the road, deciding that the moment they got back to Kitguli, he would make sure that Elder Cunningham was looking out for his best friend

“N-No. Don’t - no...no...stop...no...”

Connor was drawn out of his thoughts by Price muttering in his sleep. At first, he thought nothing of it and turned his attention back to the road, absentmindedly drumming his fingers against the wheel and wishing that he was asleep. 

“No! Stop it! I’m sorry!” Price exclaimed suddenly. 

“Oh my gosh!” Connor screamed, very nearly crashing the car. He quickly pulled over to the side of the road, “Elder Price, what on Earth is the-”

“Turn it off, turn it off, I know - I know....” 

Connor froze in the act of reaching into the backseat to wake Price up, his hand hovering above his shoulder. Price was quietly sobbing into Connor’s blanket, holding onto it so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. 

“Sorry...sorry...sorry...” he sobbed, “Sorry...”

Taking a moment to pull himself together, Connor squeezed his eyes shut and gave himself a stern talking to; _Elder Price is not having gay thoughts. You just want him to. Leave him alone. Don’t scare him off, McKinley, you have to spend days with him._

“Elder Price?” Connor said quietly, carefully placing his hand on his shoulder, “Elder Price, buddy, you need to wake up. It’s only a dream,” 

Price’s eyes shot open and he shoved Connor’s hand away, sitting up so quickly that he hit his head on the ceiling. Connor jerked backwards, practically hiding behind his seat. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Connor said.

Price shook his head, “Hell Dream,”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” 

“Alright,” Connor said, “Well, we’re only fifteen minutes away from the hotel,” 

“OK,” 

When they got to the hotel, and Price walked with his eyes firmly on the ground, Connor decided he would make sure that _everyone_ was looking out for him. 

* * *

The night at the hotel was not the most comfortable of Connor’s nineteen years: he came across a spider that was big even by Uganda’s standards and the pillow was more of a rock than anything else, but he nevertheless woke up feeling quite refreshed. 

The same could not be said for Elder Price, though. 

In the bed on the opposite side of the room, Price was sat upright, looking exhausted. Growing more worried about his fellow missionary by the minute, Connor swung his legs over the side of his bed and stretched, wondering if his bones were meant to crack that much. He felt like they probably shouldn’t. 

“Good Morning, Elder Price. Did you sleep well?” Connor asked, despite knowing the answer

Price nodded his head, pushing his glasses up his nose. Connor had noticed that he did that a lot. 

“Are you sure about that? You look-”

“I said I slept fine, Elder,” 

“Did you not sleep because you’re embarrassed about the Hell Dream?”

Price pushed his glasses up his nose again. 

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Connor continued, “It happens to us all. I have them nightly,” 

“Me too,” Price said quietly. 

“Would you like to talk about it now?”

It took a moment, but Price eventually nodded. Connor smiled and patted the bed beside him. Another minute passed before Price sat next to him, staring down at his knees. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re driving down the wrong side of the road?” 

“Well...I’ve been feeling like that since we left the village,” 

“No, I mean like - I mean in life. Do you feel like you’ve been driving down the wrong side of the road?” Price said, as thought repeating it would make any more sense. 

“How do you mean?” Connor asked. 

"I don't know...like...for as long as I can remember, I've had the same life plan; I was going to go on my mission to Orlando, do something incredible and then come home and find a girl and fall in love with her and settle down and have kids but now - now I don't know if I'm meant to do that!" he was speaking very fast and gesticulating so wildly that Connor had to duck out of the way a few times, "but then I get sent to Uganda, right? And I hated it at first but now...now I think that I was meant to be here all along! And if I was meant to be here all along and not Orlando, then maybe I'm not meant to find a wife! Maybe I'm not meant to do all that! Maybe I've been driving down the wrong side of the road this entire time!"

Connor took a deep breath and forced himself into the mindset of _Elder McKinley the District Leader_ and not _Connor McKinley_ who's crush might have been hinting that he's gay after all. 

"I understand," Connor said quietly, "Life never looks the way you think it will but one day...one day everything will make sense. We're just going to have to muddle through for a while but we'll get there, I'm sure,"

"When I go home, my parents they'll - they'll expect me to find a good Mormon girl but I don't - I don't think I want that," 

"So...uh...what - what do you want?"

Price turned to look at him, and Connor wasn't sure if he was imagining him shuffling closer to him or not. 

"I don't know," 

Not trusting himself to not lean in when Price was so close, Connor cleared his throat and stood up from the bed. 

"At the end of the day, Elder Price, you have to make the choice between what will make you happy and what will make your parents happy," Connor said. 

"Have you made that choice?" Price asked. 

"I'm trying," 

Price nodded, “I feel bad for dumping my problems on you,”

“Nonsense. I don’t mind. I’m only as happy as my unhappiest Elder!”

“You’re like our mom,”

Connor forced a laugh at this. He was quite sure that his crush thinking he was like his mom was a bad thing. 

* * *

Price fell asleep five minutes into the next leg of their journey, allowing Connor to torture himself with thinking about how he had a terrible habit of developing crushes on people he could never be with. He glanced at Price out of the corner of his eye and sighed, he looked good even when he was sleeping with his mouth hanging open. At least he looked more relaxed than last time. 

“Turn it off,” Connor muttered to himself, “turn it off, turn it off, don’t even think about it, McKinley, there’s no point. Turn it off, turn it off...”

“Mhmm?” Price mumbled, his eyes fluttering open, “Did you say something?”

“Just talking to myself,” Connor said, “Go back to sleep,” 

Price yawned, “Is your blanket still in here?”

“In the backseat,” 

Price reached into the back and grabbed the blanket. He drew his knees up to his chest and covered himself with the blanket, turning his head towards Connor as his eyes fluttered shut again. 

“You’re killing me, Price,” Connor muttered, “ _Killing_ me,” 

* * *

Price slept on and off for almost twelve hours before fully waking up for the final two hours of their journey. As signs for Kampala began to pop up on the side of the road, Connor felt his anxiety begin to bubble away, bound to reach its boiling point at the wrong moment. When they got to Kampala, they would have just one day to prepare a plan before their meeting with the Mission President, and a day really didn’t seem like enough time. 

When they got to their considerably nicer hotel room in Kampala, Connor excused himself to the bathroom for his daily panic attack. He sat on the toilet, his shoulders hunched as he tried to just _breathe_ but he was finding it more difficult than usual. 

“Um, Elder McKinley? Are you OK? You’ve been in there a while now,” 

“I’m f-fine, Elder Price!” Connor managed to gasp out, “I’ll be - I’ll be out in a minute!”

“Are you sure?” Price asked, “You - you sound like you’re not fine...”

“I’m just feeling a little...a little overwhelmed,” Connor said, “I’ll be just one-”

The door suddenly opened and Connor very nearly fell off the toilet. 

“Sorry for bursting in but you sound like you’re having a panic attack,” Price said, speaking very quickly, “Do you - do you want me to talk you through it?”

“Please,” Connor whispered as the room began to spin, “Help,” 

Price nodded once and knelt down in front of Connor, taking his hands so tenderly that if Connor had not watched him do it, he might not have noticed. 

“Look at me, Elder McKinley,” 

Connor forced himself to look up from their joined hands and at his face. 

“What’s your name?”

“W-What?”

“Your name,” Price repeated, “What is it?”

“Connor,” 

“OK. My name is Kevin,” Price said softly. “Let’s list as many capital cities as we can, OK? I say one and you say one. I’ll go first...Washington,” 

Connor squeezed his eyes shut again, “Um, I don’t - I don’t - I don't know,”

" _Breathe,_ Connor," Price whispered, "What's the capital of England?"

"Um - um...I...uh...London," 

“Good,” Price said, squeezing his hands slightly, “Madrid,” 

“Paris,” 

“Athens,” 

“Berlin,” 

And on and on they went for what felt like hours until they couldn’t think of anymore and Connor had completely forgotten about his panic. His eyes flickered between Price’s face and their hands that were still joined. Selfishly, he didn’t want to move, didn’t want the moment to end but knew that Price would have probably preferred to not hold his gay district leaders hands for much longer. When he tried to let go, however, Price clung on tighter. 

“Do you feel better?” Price asked. 

Connor nodded, “Yes. Thank-you, Elder-”

“Kevin,” he interrupted, “you might as well call me Kevin,” 

Connor managed to smile at this, “Thank-you, Kevin. How did you even know what to do?”

“Arnold helps me through mine all the time,” he said, dropping Connor’s hands and getting to his feet, “He gets me to list things off; capitals, planets, solar systems, states, colours, _anything_. It helps,” 

Part of Connor’s brain was vaguely shocked at the fact that _Kevin Price_ of all people had panic attacks, but the other part was too busy screaming about the fact that he had just held hands with Kevin to think about much else. 

* * *

“Three months probation, weekly phone calls and a monthly report,” the Mission President said after Connor had finished his mini-presentation, “if you fail it, you’re done, McKinley,”

Connor bit the inside of his lip, “Thank-you, sir. I won’t let you down,” 

“Again. You won’t me let me down _again_ ,” 

“Yes, sir,” Connor said, “I won’t let you down again,” 

“Remember, I have your file, McKinley,” the Mission President continued, “All it takes is one phone call home and you’ll be back in therapy,”

Connor felt his bottom lip begin to tremble but he forced himself to continue looking at the Mission President, because looking away from him meant looking at Kevin who had made a quiet noise of confusion at this. 

“Do you understand, Elder McKinley?”

“Yes,” Connor said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I understand, Mission President,” 

“Good. You’re both dismissed,” 

The walk back to their hotel was done in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Connor could see Kevin glancing at him, but Connor wouldn’t let himself look at him. He didn’t want to have _another_ panic attack in front of him. 

In the hotel room, Connor made a beeline for the bathroom but Kevin grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards. 

“Hey,” he said, “what was all that about?”

“Nothing,” Connor said, “it doesn’t matter,”

Kevin furrowed his brows, “You nearly started crying. What did he mean? What therapy?”

“Think about it, Kevin,” Connor said impatiently. 

In a moment that contained an eternity, a number of looks passed over Kevin’s face: confusion, shock, sympathy and then, finally, disgust. Connor turned his back on him and slowly sat down on the bed, his head in his hands. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Connor said, “I can’t lie about what we’re preaching, but I also can’t get everyone to start preaching the Book of Mormon again. But if I don’t do that...” he trailed off, he didn’t want to say what going home would mean for him. 

“Maybe you should send me home,” 

Connor looked up at Kevin, “What would that achieve?”

“I’m the reason we’re in this mess in the first place,” he said, “I don’t really want to go back yet but I think it’ll be for the best and-”

“How is that going to help _anyone_?” Connor snapped. 

“No one back at the hut likes me!” Kevin exclaimed, “Arnold is the only one who can tolerate me and-”

“That isn’t true!” 

“I heard you and Poptarts talking. I know what he said about me,” 

Connor looked away from Kevin again, “Did you - did you hear everything?”

“I, uh - I...yeah,” Kevin said, his voice sounding oddly strained, “about - about you and having a crush on...yeah, I heard,” 

Whenever Connor had imagined the moment that Kevin found out about his crush, it usually ended with being pinned against the wall and being kissed senselesss, not blushing furiously as Kevin stood on the other side of the room, not quite meeting his eye. Connor cleared his throat and stood up from the bed, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. 

“Right, well, I think...I think I’ll go for a walk. Give you some...give you some space,” 

“You don’t have to-”

“Please, Elder Price, you don’t have to pretend to be OK with me. I’ll get out of your hair,” 

Connor walked until the muscles in his legs were screaming at him to stop. He ended up going back to the car and crawling into the back seat, draping the blanket over himself. It smelled like Elder Price. 

* * *

Connor slept on and off, tossing and turning as much as the backseat would allow, plagued by Hell dreams. He kept on throwing the blanket away from him only to snatch it back moments later, hugging it to his chest. He wasn’t sure what sort of aftershave Price used, but it just might have been his favourite smell.  
  
He went back to the hotel room eventually, prepared to give a speech to Price about how he wasn’t going to try and come onto him and how it was a silly little crush that he would be over in no time.  
  
“Elder Price, I just want to assure you that - oh,” the room was empty and Connor felt his heart deflate, assuming that Price was so disgusted at the thought of him that he’d gotten the bus home.  
  
Just as Connor was about to collapse into bed and maybe cry a bit, he noticed a note on the pillow.  
  
“ _Gone out, will explain later. Kev._ ”

Assuming that ‘ _will explain later_ ’ meant _‘will explain later why I don’t want to be around you anymore’_ , Connor pushed the paper to the floor and clambered into bed. Sleep soon following his tears. 

* * *

When Connor awoke, the sun was setting and Elder Price had still not returned. Resigning himself to the fact that Price had probably gotten the bus home, Connor dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He flicked the light on a cringed slightly at his appearance: his hair was sticking up at odd angles and his eyes were red puffy, cushioned by bags that were almost upsetting to look at. Groaning, Connor loosened his tie and walked back out of the bathroom.

“ _Ah!_ ” Connor yelled, walking straight into Elder Price. 

“Sorry!” Price exclaimed, grabbing Connor to steady him, “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

Connor jerked backwards, ripping his arms out of Price’s grip, “It’s fine. I didn’t hear you come in,”

“Yeah, I was just -” he froze and narrowed his eyes, peering closer at Connor, “Have you been crying?” 

“It doesn’t matter, I-”

“Yes, it does,” Price countered. 

“What?”

“The fact that you’ve been crying. It does matter,” Price said, “You do it all the time. Someone will ask if you’re OK and you’ll just brush them off. I saw you do it to Schrader once. You were crying and-” 

“The state of my mental wellbeing is really not something you need to worry about, Elder,” Connor snapped. 

“You don’t seem to care about it either!” 

Connor rolled his eyes, “I’m more focused on not failing the district right now, which I cannot do if you keep on trying to give me a therapy session!”

“You don’t need to worry about failing the district because we don’t need to be on probation anymore!” Price snapped, “We can go back to the Mission President and tell him he doesn’t need to worry about us!”

Connor closed his eyes against the incessant throb in the shape of Elder Price in his head. He ran a hand through his already messy hair and took deep calming breaths that were not doing much to calm him. 

“If we go back to the Mission President and tell him he doesn’t need to worry about us, we’ll be sent home,” Connor said carefully, “and I don’t think I need to tell you what that means for me, for _Elder Church_ , for-”

“I went to the embassy,” 

Connor’s eyes shot open, “You _what?_ ”

“I went to the embassy,” Price repeated.

“How did you even get a meeting? You can’t just _walk_ into the U.S Embassy _,_ ” 

“You’d be surprised how far looking like a sweet Mormon will get you,” Price shrugged, gesturing vaguely to himself, “I went in and, uh, turned on the waterworks and the lady on reception took pity on me and then the man I spoke to just happened to be an ex-Mormon who lost his faith whilst he was on his mission and I...I told him about the Book of Arnold and showed him those personal statements from the villagers and then I just repeated what you said to the Mission President and well...we’re fully funded to preach the Book of Arnold,” 

“Are you being serious?” Connor whispered. 

Price nodded, “Yeah. I mean, he wants to see you tomorrow just because he wants to know who’s running the District but apart from that...we’re free to stay in Kitguli!”

Connor couldn’t help himself and burst into laughter, “Oh, gosh, Elder Price! I could kiss you!” 

“Oh, uh, I don’t mi-” 

“Sorry,” Connor said quickly, “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like - I didn’t mean it like _that_. I’m just...I’m very excited and...and _thankful._ Thank-you, Elder,” 

* * *

Connor jigged his knee up and down nervously as they sat in the Embassy. Under any other circumstances, Connor might have been quite excited to find himself in such a place, but now all he could think was the consequences if he messed this up. He wasn’t sure he would be able to face the other missionaries to tell them that they wouldn’t be able to preach the Book of Arnold anymore. 

“Stop panicking,” Price said, gently placing his hand on Connor’s knee, “We’re going to be fine,” 

It was a mark of how worried that he was that Connor didn’t faint at the feeling of Price’s hand on his knee. 

“Elder Price, Elder McKinley?” 

Connor’s neck snapped up as a man - who looked much more cheerful than the mission president - stuck his head out of an office. 

“Come on in, boys, we have a lot to discuss,” 

* * *

There was a lovely part of Connor’s brain that liked to convince him that everything in his life was going to go wrong. 

It had convinced him that Poptarts would hate him when they were paired together at the MTC and that the rest of the Elders on his mission would hate him for who he was. It had also done a really fantastic job of convincing him that he would be a terrible district leader on the flight over - and he still wasn’t sure that this wasn’t true. 

But it was unusually quiet as he sat with Elder Price on the bonnet of the car, overlooking Sipi Falls - a place that was recommended to them by Mr Kennedy at the Embassy. Perhaps it was quiet because he was too busy transfixed by the water sparkling in the sunlight as it crashed over the cliff face, or because the meeting at the Embassy had not backfired like he had expected it to. 

“I can’t believe it. We did it,” Connor turned to look at Price, “ _You_ did it,”

Price smiled, “I couldn’t have done it without your presentation,” 

“I really thought we were going to have to go back to preaching the Book of Mormon. I couldn’t have made you all do that again,” Connor said, shuddering at the very thought. 

“Lets just hope that Arnold has made good progress on the Book,” Price snorted. 

“Yeah. I think I should have been paying a bit more attention to what he’s been writing before we left,” Connor sighed, “You don’t happen to know, do you?”

“He was - uh - he was working on a bit of scripture about...about same sex relationships when we left,” Price said, his cheeks turning slightly red. 

Connor turned his attention back to the waterfall, choosing his next words carefully. 

“That’s interesting,” 

“Yeah...he says that...he says that it’s allowed,” 

“That’s very admirable of him,” 

“Which means that you can kiss me,” 

Conor almost slipped off the car, “Excuse me?”

“Which means that you can kiss me,” Price repeated, “like you said yesterday,” 

“Elder Price, I...I realise that you think you’re doing a nice thing by offering to kiss me but...but I would rather not. I don’t think it’ll help me get over this crush,” 

Price frowned, “You want to get over your crush?”

Connor blinked at him, “Yes...of course I do,” 

“Why?” 

Connor sighed and ran a hand over his face. He wasn’t sure if this was Price’s ego coming back, or his insecurities making an appearance. 

“It’s nothing against you, I just don’t want to waste my time on someone who can - who can never feel the same way,” 

Price’s frown deepened, “Why do you think I don’t feel the same way?” 

“You’re straight!” Connor exclaimed, somewhat impatiently. 

“No, I - I told you! I’m driving down the wrong side of the road!” 

“What?”

“I’m driving down the - oh, fuck it,” Price muttered before grabbing Connor’s shirt and yanking him forward.

Connor barely had time to think before there was another pair of lips on his. He sat frozen as Prices hands trailed down his chest and came to rest on his hips. 

“Mhm - n-no!” Connor yelled, pulling away, “No, Elder Price, I told you! It won’t help!”

Price’s face was still inches from Connor’s and his hands were still on his waist, his shirt bunched up in his fists. He could see details of Price’s face that he’d never noticed before; the light smattering of freckles across his cheeks, the tiny flecks of green in his eyes and the indents on the bridge of his nose from his glasses.

“But I _want_ you to kiss me!”

Connor groaned, “Don’t you get it? This-” he gestured between the two of them, “-isn’t helping me! I want to get over this crush because whilst you are a _quite_ fantastic kisser, I don’t want to get hurt! I don’t want you leading me on!”

“You actually don’t understand, do you?”

“Understand what?” Connor asked impatiently. 

“When I say that I’m driving down the wrong side of the road, I mean...I mean because I’m expected to marry a woman but I don’t want that!”

“There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to get married-”

“But I _do_ want to get married, just not to a woman,”

“You’re....you’re gay?” Connor whispered. His heart was beating so fast, he was sure that Price must have been able to hear it hammering against his ribcage. 

Price nodded, “I tried to tell you the other day, but I don’t think you understood,” 

“I thought...I thought you just didn’t know what you wanted to do with your life,” 

"No, I...I knew what I wanted, I just...I didn't allow myself to want it. But...I want it now," 

"Right..." Connor said slowly, "Just to, um, just to _clarify,_ we are talking about you wanting to kiss me, right?"

Price laughed, "Yes, we are talking about me wanting to kiss you. Do you want to kiss me?"

"Well...yeah," 

"So, why aren't you?"

"Uh...good question," 

Price raised his eyebrows at him, as though to say, ' _Well...?'_ but Connor found that he couldn't move any closer. His eyes flickered between Price's lips and his eyes. It was strange; all he had thought about for the past few weeks was kissing Price, but now that the oppurtunity had presented itself to him, he couldn't bring himself to just lean a little closer. 

"For the love of Christ, Connor, just kiss me!" 

Connor didn't need telling again.

* * *

“So, what was spending so much time with Price like?” Poptarts asked, sidling up to him at the party they were having to celebrate saving District 9. 

“Fine,” Connor shrugged. 

“Got over your crush on him?”

Connor glanced over to where Kevin was stood with Sedaka. 

“That’s one way to put it,”

Poptarts frowned, "What does that even mean?”

Connor smirked at him and then turned back to Kevin, "Elder Price, can I have a word with you in my office, please?" 

"Sure thing, Elder McKinley!" Kevin beamed, practically skipping over to them. 

Connor slammed the door shut in the shocked face of Chris Thomas by pinning Kevin against it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!!!


End file.
